


Thingamies, and their Consequences

by sheafrotherdon



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-15
Updated: 2005-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-11 23:26:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/118322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow-up to <em>The Twenty-First Thing</em>.  Remus finds the letter Sirius left on his pillow (<a href="http://www.livejournal.com/users/sheafrotherdon/23756.html#cutid1">read it here</a>) and there are consquences that poor Sirius could never have imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thingamies, and their Consequences

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Twenty-First Thing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/118327) by [sheafrotherdon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheafrotherdon/pseuds/sheafrotherdon). 



When Sirius spotted Remus leaving the castle he gave serious consideration to the idea of puking behind a bush. He'd thought the very worst part of waiting for Remus to find the letter was . . . well, waiting for Remus to find the letter. But now he realized he'd been utterly misled by his own questionable intellect. Clearly the worst part was waiting for Remus to cross from the castle to the Very Special Hiding Space of Infamy (By The Lake, Second Grove of Oak Trees To The Left, And Bring An Umbrella Because It's Often Drippy). _This_ waiting was a thousand times worse than the earlier waiting because _this_ waiting meant Remus _knew_.

Sirius clapped a hand over his mouth so as not to moan with despair, and another over his nose to block an exit route for his writhing insides.

He realized now he'd been a mad fool to commit his thoughts to paper. Blokes didn't say "I love you." Blokes punched each other on the upper arm and hugged with their belts at least three feet apart. There were dispensations for gay blokes – a great deal more touching was allowed, for example – but even then you didn't speak of _love_. Disaster would surely follow – disaster and pinched-faces and whispers behind your back and cold narrow beds without anyone in them at all.

Sirius felt the blood drain from his face at the thought of his bed without a Moony in it.

Oh he was _doomed_.

He dropped his hands as Remus pushed through the bushes to enter the Very Special Hiding place ( _of Doom_ , added Sirius with a mental flourish). He looked exceptionally grave. The writhing in Sirius' insides ratcheted up a notch because Remus was frowning and obviously thinking too hard and _oh I'm the dumbest bastard who ever did live_ he had the letter in his hand.

Remus studied the parchment, head bowed. "Sirius."

"Nnghaa," Sirius replied.

It was a stunningly eloquent response, but Remus seemed unmoved. "I got your letter," he said unnecessarily.

"Mmm?" Sirius filled his hands with great swathes of his robes, fingering the fabric nervously.

"I thought perhaps we should talk . . . "

"Talk?" Sirius' stomach dropped clean to his knees. Oh this was awful, this was terrible, this was _doom_. Talking never meant anything good. "Talk? With words? That kind of talking?"

Remus nodded, unfolding the letter and eyeing it with the expression of one who expected to be bitten. "First of all . . ." He sighed, as if pained. "I never apologize for farting." He eyed Sirius disapprovingly. "Because I never fart."

Sirius blinked. "You . . . you never . . . I'm sorry?"

Remus ignored him. "I certainly never pick my nose. And anyone who knows anything about the proper care and upkeep of quills understands that I sharpen mine exactly as I should."

"Quills. Right." Sirius rubbed a hand over his forehead. He was starting to sweat.

"My knowledge of Quidditch starts with the infamous season of 1797, and the very idea that I would wear the same pair of socks seven days in a row. . ." He shook his head slowly. "Tsk tsk tsk."

Sirius hung his head, feeling as if he'd done a Very Bad Thing. "But . . ."

"I find brushing my teeth very therapeutic, and I _certainly_ do not whimper as I am not a blasted girl."

"Oh!" That was outrageous. "You bloody do whi . . ."

"And . . ." Remus' tone made Sirius mash his lips together to keep all the stupid words he knew firmly inside his stupid head. "The toes. We _do not talk_ about the toes."

Sirius started to bite his thumbnail. "Remus . ." he mumbled rather messily around his cuticle. "I . . ."

"There's all that other stuff." Remus made an airy gesture with one hand, as if to dismiss the merits of wearing polyester or moving to Birimingham for your beloved. "Leading right up to the . . . end." Sirius wondered if the word 'end' possessed particular resonance in his own head alone, or if Remus really was leading up to The Great Dumping of Sirius Black. He watched as Remus folded the letter very neatly and slipped it into a pocket. "Sirius . . ."

Time to beg. "Oh Moony _please_ , I _know_ I'm an utter bastard and I _know_ you're not supposed to _say_ those things, just never, because they're ridiculous and not the sort of thing men say to one another but _Moony_ . . ."

"Sirius?"

"Mmm?"

"The end of your letter. You remember what it said?"

"Mmhmm." Sirius nibbled on his thumbnail some more. Remus arched an eyebrow and Sirius flinched as if facing down McGonagall herself. "Um, down by lake, thinking of drowning m'self, love slave, hoping that you might think I might have some, y'know, 'tential to be a half-way decent thingamy, catch-like, if . . ." He ran out of steam.

Remus paused for a long significant moment. "I think you're a great deal better than a half-way decent catch already, you daft bugger."

Sirius blinked. Remus had started smiling. Remus was saying he . . . _oh! Oh shit!_ . . . "You fucking _bastard_ ," he said, eyes wide.

"Bastard, am I?" Remus was grinning now.

"OH!" Sirius felt joy explode inside him (a rather messy sensation that seemed to involve glitter and tiny, tiny balloons and a couple of gallons of purple paint). He didn't intend to knock Remus to the ground when he leapt upon him, but if the ground was where they ended up, so much the better. He snuffled his nose into the crook of Remus' neck, wriggling happily. "I nearly died!" he protested, "nearly died thinking you didn't like me at _all_." He kissed the curve of Remus' jaw, his chin, the corner of his mouth, the end of his nose. "You fucking, fucking bastard, that was _so unfair_."

Remus laughed beneath him, trying to dodge the sloppy kisses Sirius was intent on dispensing. "You made me read a _list_ ," he gasped, laughter making his eyes flash and dance. "About myself! Peter thought I had constipation, the way I was squirming about on my bed."

"Shut up," Sirius said, kissing his forehead, and nuzzling at his hair. "You've said enough. _My turn_." He paused and smiled, blushing slightly. "You're a total fucking wanker and . . . " He took a deep breath. " _Iloveyou_ ," he whispered, immediately burying his face back in Remus' neck and making small maniacal noises now he'd said it out loud.

"You gormless dipshit," said Remus, wrapping his arms around him, and grinning with delight. "I love you too."

Sirius pulled away suddenly, clapping his hands to both sides of Remus' face and squashing everything between. "You _what_?"

"Uv yer too," grunted Remus through fish lips.

"You _do_?"

"Ess!"

" _Moony_!"

"'afdut . . ."

"Oh!" Sirius let go and patted Remus' face as if he were actually helping his features slip back into place. "Sorry, sorry . . ." He rolled to the side and sat up, beaming. "You _love_ me."

"Yes. Some kind of mental illness I suppose but . . . "

Anything else he planned to say was lost beneath Sirius' excited attempt at a kiss. The angle was all wrong, and their noses squished and teeth clicked and Remus somehow managed to bite his own bottom lip along the way. As Remus pulled back with a wince of pain, Sirius thought it darned unfair there weren't points for effort where kisses were concerned.

Remus dabbed at his bleeding lip with a finger. "Not the best 'I love you' kiss I imagine the world's ever seen."

"Probably not." Sirius knew he ought to feel ashamed, question his abilities as a seducer of men and all that tosh, but he was just so damn _happy_. "Try again?"

Remus must've seen him coming that time since he grabbed Sirius' upper arms and prevented him from flying at his mouth to suck out his soul. Sirius whimpered in frustration at the restraint, but it he had to admit Moony knew something about kissing when their lips met and there was sweetness and slowness and just the hint of a tongue and the nip of teeth. He made a noise in the back of his throat that was desperately close to a gurgle, and Remus began to laugh, pulling back just enough for their foreheads to touch.

"Tell me something you like about _me_ ," whispered Sirius, feeling suddenly in need of reassurance.

Remus chuckled indulgently. "Hmmmmm. I like the way you clap your hand over your mouth every time there are Yorkshire Puddings for dinner, as if you can't believe your luck."

"And?"

"And the fact that you've tried for six months to convince us that Barry Manilow is punk."

Sirius grinned. "And?"

"And the way you think 'pull my finger' is still the funniest joke in the world."

"And?"

Remus growled at the back of his throat. "The smile you get on your face when you see James making headway with Lily. You don't fool me for a second, you soft git."

Sirius wriggled a little. "And?"

"And that you have a collection of "interesting twigs" stashed at the bottom of your trunk."

"And?"

Remus let out a short huff of laughter. " _Padfoot_!"

"One more. Please?" Sirius knew they were probably too close for his puppy-dog eyes to have any effect, but he made them anyway.

"I like the fact that you'd listen to disco to rescue me from The Bad People." Remus buried his fingers in Sirius' hair. "Disco, Padfoot? The world has never known such sacrifice."

Sirius' second attempt at instigating a kiss was far more successful, and it was Remus who gurgled this time around.


End file.
